The Wait
by Loopstagirl
Summary: His friends all fell prey to old age. And yet Merlin was doomed to live a life alone. How long could forever stretch on for when waiting for one's destiny? Paranoid rating for sensitive topics.


_Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights belong to their respective owners._

_This started off as a small one-shot for Camelot_Drabble, then I extended it a bit for a longer one-shot to put on here. Some quite dark themes (suicidal thoughts) mentioned so don't read if that is sensitive for you. Nothing too dark though, just a fleeting mention._

_Hope you like it._

* * *

The first month had been hard.

The first year had been painful.

The first century, however, had been almost excruciating.

Merlin knew he wasn't like others. Never before had he truly considered his own mortality, he had never needed to. When every day was spent saving those closest to him and just trying to stay alive, the opportunity to need to sit and think about it had never arisen. Everything had always been done for Arthur and whether he lived or died was almost irrelevant.

Somehow, Merlin himself had always escaped. The warlock had just put it down to luck, his powers and a king who cared more than he would ever admit looking out for him.

But never did he believe that was because he was immortal.

He felt himself age the years after Arthur's death, even as he fought to help Gwen rule Camelot. He had spent years by the prince - then the king's - side and Merlin found himself surprised with just how much he knew.

But it wasn't only _what_ he knew that was important, but how he knew it. He had the knowledge of a king through being by Arthur's side for all of this time. He had watched Arthur learn to rule – and had been standing next to him while those lessons had been put in the man's head. It seemed some had sunk into Merlin's mind as well. It wasn't only the direct lessons that had taught Merlin, however. The days of hunting where Arthur vented everything on his mind and the decisions that he had to make. Talk upon talk with the king asking his servant for his own opinion. Merlin knew better than anyone the way Arthur would have wanted the kingdom run and he was just grateful that Gwen appreciated that fact. Albion had been created, and through their joint efforts, they drew the kingdom into a golden age.

Merlin hoped that Arthur would be proud.

But having his mind distracted only helped so much and Merlin couldn't fail to notice the changes. Gaius passed on, sleeping away in the night peacefully. Merlin mourned, but he knew it had been the man's time. His mentor had never quite been the same after Arthur's death and the repealing of the law on magic, almost as if the emotional weight of everything that had just happened had finally caught up with him. Merlin was glad he got to see how strong Camelot became though, that he got to witness what his life's work had led to.

His mother was the next to go, Merlin's grief almost threatening to topple the kingdom as his magic went wild. He couldn't deal with much more loss. At least, he didn't think so at the time. For almost a week he sat by the shores of Avalon, staring into the water and wondering how many more people he would lose to death. There had been no choice. When a diplomat had arrived the day after Merlin had found out and offered a treaty that the warlock didn't like the sound of, the entire castle had shaken with his anger. Gwen had been forced to send diplomats out after the fleeing messenger to make sure there wasn't war. Merlin knew he had wanted a fight. He had wanted the chance to express how furious he was at the world. He had known even while the thoughts were running through his head that it was wrong so he had fled to a place where there was no one for him to hurt. No one living, anyway.

But the lake remained, neither Freya nor Arthur ever appearing to him.

In a way, Merlin knew his mother's death would have had to happen. As his mind began the slow process of healing, he began to think rationally again. No child should outlive their parent. Even if Arthur had lived and things had been different, he still would have had to say goodbye to her at some point. Her death was natural, it was the way things were.

But that was when he noticed something unnatural about himself.

His friends were getting older and he wasn't changing. No one ever said anything about it but Merlin could see the looks he was beginning to receive. Not from those closest to him, but by those more distance. Rumours started spreading about him having too much power and Merlin took himself far away. The last thing he wanted was for him to be responsible for the downfall of the kingdom they had worked so hard to build. They had come too far, a new generation had been born and were accepting of those with power. He was responsible for bringing magic back, he was not going to be its downfall as well.

He never returned to Camelot.

He intended too, Merlin knew that much. But when he received a shakily penned letter from a frail Percival stating that both Gwen and Leon had fallen prey to old age, Merlin knew he couldn't go back. There was nothing left for him there, only reminders of what he had lost. No one knew him to tell him of Percival's death, but Merlin knew the knight would have followed shortly after, his own age getting the better of him.

Merlin still looked the same. He had matured from the innocent youth who had blundered into Camelot oh so long ago. He no longer looked like a boy. But apart from his eyes – which more than revealed his age – Merlin knew he looked as he had when Arthur had died. Heavy with sorrow and grief, but unchanging physically. Any scars he had were the ones he had received before that time. It was as if Arthur's passing had stopped the clock for Merlin.

He tried to end it all in several different ways. The pain and the loneliness was far too great for one man to bear. Who was he supposed to talk to about it? No one would understand how he felt and they would simply lock him up. He contemplated it once, wondering if another person killing him would make the difference. But it didn't. Every time he thought death had finally come to reunite him with his loved ones, he awoke in the crystal cave, back in the body of his youthful self even if he had died in the disguise of Dragoon.

Magic was preserving him and Merlin knew what for. He knew why it was the haunted look of a man who had just lost his destiny that had been preserved rather than anything before or after.

The dragon had told him that Arthur would rise again. Merlin knew now that his king would need him there when that time came. What he hadn't expected was that he would be made to live out each and every one of those years along the way.

He moved around the place, but found within three centuries that he couldn't leave the lake for any length of time. The last thing he needed was for Arthur to come back when Merlin was beginning to venture further afield. Even when technology began to kick off and travelling abroad became possible, Merlin preferred to learn what he could from books rather than going away himself. When Arthur was back, he promised himself that he would explore the world then. But until that day came, he had to stay there. He was sure Arthur would have something to say about it if he finally returned to the land of the living only to find that Merlin was late.

Each century, he planted a tree to help pass time. He never wanted to forget how many years he was being forced to walk the earth. He allowed himself to grow old (using his magic to force his body to age), slept a few years away in the cave and then re-emerged a young man ready to start life again. No one got suspicious, for there was never anyone left to recall his younger face each time he started again.

It was a lonely existence. He had lost too many people to be able to go through the pain again. Every few lifetimes, he would give in and allow himself to feel again. And then he would be reminded why it was best to be alone. At least that pain was just a dull throb rather than the sharp sting of losing someone all over again. Not to mention he could never quite get as close to someone the way he had been with Arthur.

"Any time now will be useful, you know," a young Merlin told the still waters of the lake as he brushed the dirt from his hands. That had been the hundredth tree he had planted and he wasn't sure how much more he could take. At this rate, this lifetime would be cut shorter than normal. It happened ever few centuries where he just couldn't cope. His optimism had dwindled over the years. He just needed some sort of sign that he wouldn't have to wait for all eternity.

Only this time, a soft dripping caught his attention and he turned towards the lake. He never stayed, he just made sure he could see the waters from the house he had constructed deep in the woods. A frown on his face, Merlin turned back to the lake and felt his jaw drop.

The dripping sound turned into a roar of water as the lake shimmered. The still waters began rippling, which then morphed into waves. It was as if the water was parting from the middle and Merlin didn't notice as the waves splashed over his feet. Instead of withdrawing, Merlin found that he was taking small steps into the lake, eyes locked on the centre point of the disturbance. There was a soft white light illuminating a small circle and as Merlin stumbled towards it, he could tell that none of the water was touching that particular point. Merlin didn't take his eyes off it, he didn't even blink.

Was this it? Was this what he had been waiting for? A warm breeze ruffled his hair yet the trees just behind him on the shore didn't so much as stir. Merlin only noticed because his years had allowed him to have an understanding and connection with nature that hadn't previously been there. He didn't look round though.

Unless he was mistake, a figure was beginning to appear as the light slowly began to fade. Merlin was running before he knew what he was doing, splashing through the waves until he reached the dry land in the centre of the lake. As soon as he realised the figure was indeed human, Merlin had fallen to his knees.

He knew.

He just knew.

His heart felt as if it had just started beating again and Merlin felt emotions threatening to overwhelm him that he hadn't felt for hundreds of years.

"A-Arthur?" His voice was barely audible, nothing more than a tremble. He would have said that he almost sounded his age if he wasn't too busy trying to remember how to just breathe. There was no answer for a long moment until a harsh cough made Merlin dart into action.

He should have realised that Arthur was emerging from the middle of a lake. Just because the waters had allowed him to surface didn't mean that he wouldn't feel it. Merlin could already feel the water beginning to lap back in towards them and knew he had to get his king to safety. He ran forward, a beaming grin on his face as he instantly recognised the man in front of him. Arthur too looked exactly the same as the day he had left a grief-stricken warlock alone on the shores. But Merlin didn't have time to think about any of that now, not when the water was back up to his knees.

He grabbed Arthur under the arms and immediately began pulling him towards shore. The water helped a little, it allowed him to take Arthur's weight as he raced against the water. He knew that aid would disappear once it became too deep for him to be able to stand up comfortably. Luckily, despite everything he had gone through, Merlin was still fast when he needed to be. Namely; when Arthur's life was on the line. He got the man to shore just as the lake resumed its normal stillness.

Arthur was still coughing but slowly rolled over onto his back once he felt dry land beneath him.

"Merlin?" He rasped, staring at the man kneeling over him. Merlin couldn't blame him. He was fully aware that there were tears pouring down his face as he simply stared back, afraid to look away in case Arthur vanished again and he had to wait forever for another chance at life.

"There was a dragon here a moment ago, I'm sure of it…" Arthur began sitting up as he spoke, looking around. Merlin was now glad he had created enough of a sense of mystery that no one ventured near the lake any more. It was still natural, there was no indication of the world Arthur had just entered.

"Where did he go?"

"Away," Merlin managed to say, emotions constricting his voice. "He went away a long time ago….So long ago…"

"We've only just got…" Arthur broke off, his face going pale. It was then that Merlin heard it. He hadn't noticed immediately because he was used to the sound. But he honestly thought that Arthur was going to pass out when the ex-king located the airplane and could only stare. Merlin could see his lips beginning to form the word magic and his hand look like it was about to try and reach for his sword.

"It's okay, Arthur…. You've been de-sleeping for a while. You're safe though, I can promise you that. If you can stand, I can take you to my home, I'll explain everything there…"

"You have a home?"

"I do, Sire."

"Merlin," Arthur fixed him with an oh-so familiar look and Merlin had to smile, even if he tried to hide it from Arthur.

"Precisely how long have I been dead for?"

It didn't surprise Merlin that Arthur had caught the slip of his tongue, nor was it a shock that Arthur was beginning to piece things together. When he put his mind to it, the royal was sharp. He had just been oblivious to things he hadn't wanted to see.

But as Merlin helped his master to his feet and began aiding Arthur in walking in the right direction, he couldn't stop the smile on his face. Arthur would need someone to help him come to terms with what had happened and how the world had changed. If Albion did indeed need him again, then Arthur would need to know what to do.

As they stumbled through the forest – together - Merlin knew that after all of this time, he finally had a destiny again.

And he couldn't be happier.


End file.
